Harry Potter and the Return of the Summoners
by JuMiKu
Summary: GoF with Final Fantasy twist. Harry finishes the first task differently, which is the beginning of the return of the ancient Summoners. Better summary inside.
1. The first Task

My second story! This will be a Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire-fanfic with a Final Fantasy-twist. You don't need to know Final Fantasy though! It's just inspired by it! Though I do recommend playing the games, because they are the best RPGs ever made.

Summary: When Harry faces the dragon and he is about to summon his fire-bolt, he gets a strange feeling of familiarity and some kind of instinct makes him simply walk up to the beast whispering soothing words and petting it. To everybody's (including Harry's) extreme shock the creature doesn't attack him, but allows him to take the golden egg and walk off. After this encounter Harry researches this occurrence and finds a book of the now extinct summoners, who are a group of people with the talent to call monsters to fight for them. So what do you think he does when he finds out what the second task is (A little earlier than cannon Harry might I add)? He goes off to follow the book's instructions on how to become a summoner, learning more in the process than praying for monsters to help him.

Disclaimer: Harry belongs to JK. Rowling and Final Fantasy to Square Enix and I'm neither!

Direct speech will be like this: "Blah!", stressed words in direct speech like this:_ emphasised,_

Harry's thoughts like this: _"Blah!" _and stressed words in thoughts like this:emphasised.

**Harry Potter and the return of the summoners**

**Chapter One – Dra vencd Dycg**

Harry stared at the creature in front of him with dread. He felt very foolish with the little stick of wood in his hand as though it was mighty weapon. In normal situations he might have believed it to be just that, but not now.

He raised his wand above his head the spell, Hermione and he had practised for weeks, on his lips, when his eyes suddenly met the yellow orbs of the black-scaled dragon. In this moment something happened and for a moment Harry could have sworn he was very close to the beast's very soul.

Both seemed to feel _something_. Almost like a connection. They just stared into each other's eyes for several seconds, so shocked at the sudden change inside of them that Harry let his arm fall to his side and the dragon stopped snarling and waving its tail in agitation.

Following an urge he couldn't resist, the boy took a step forward, then another and another until he stood in front of the great creauture that just watched him with eyes that seemed to gain more serenity and intelligence the nearer he came to her.

She was a true beauty he observed, standing in front of her. If she wanted to, she could now kill him on the spot, but for some reason Harry wasn't scared at all; he knew she would never hurt him. Ignoring his fogged mind, that he vaguely registered, was screaming at him to run, before the beast decided it was hungry, Harry didn't even blink as she lowered her mussle, so they at were eye-level; reducing the distance, between them to less than twenty centimetres.

By now his brain was so clouded, that he didn't realize he had slipped his wand –his last small chance of defence if the dragon decided he had come too close for comfort to her clutch - into the pocket of his robes, until he had raised his hand to rest on her head. He gently stroked her beautiful scaled head as a show of affection, which she seemed to enjoy, leaning into his touch. He smiled.

Suddenly he remembered something important, or at least came close to remembering it. There was a reason he had come here! It came crushing down on him like a tidal wave. _"The egg! I'm supposed to retrieve the golden egg. I'm in the middle of a tournament! I'm supposed to fight the creature in front of me!"_

Yet for a long moment he calmly continued to scratch her head, trying to find a way around this. He came up with the most simply and probably stupid idea, he ever had, but shrugged. _"I've had worse ideas that worked out just fine."_

He met the eyes of the mother once more and whispered softly to give his words a soothing effect: "Beauty, I must admit I haven't come here for the sole purpose of admiring you..." For a moment Harry felt quite ridiculous, trying to charm a dragon with anything but his wand, but to his shock, he wasn't surprised at all when the dragon nodded for him to continue. "There is one among your clutch that isn't yours. It has been placed there by wizards," The dragon snarled angrily, but Harry knew it wasn't directed at him, "I'm supposed to get it." He watched her reaction worriedly trying to read her eyes and receiving a look that was just as calculating; she was judging just how much she trusted him.

Finally she gave him a nod and moved out of the way to reveal many grayish dragon-eggs and one golden egg, that was gleaming in the afternoon sun. When Harry still hesitated, she gave him a _light_ push that sent him tumbling in the general direction of the egg, but he regained his balance soon and careful not to touch any of the other eggs, as he feared it would unsettle the protective mother, made his way towards it.

Kneeling directly in front of the desired egg, he gave her one last glance, which was answered with an exasperated look, and took the heavy egg with some difficulty.

He turned back to his friend and went back to his previous spot, while she lay back down to rest on her eggs.

Out of a strange urge he gave her a very formal bow and arm gesture, which was answered by her with a bow of her head. "Goodbye my friend," he said, before turning around and walking towards the tent, he came from, but when he was just ten metres away from it, a very dishevelled-looking McGonagall, ran up to him, grabbed him half dragging, half carrying him with astonishing strength for a woman her age into the tent. Meanwhile Mad-eye Moody, who had been close behind them the entire time, kept a careful eye on the dragon ready to throw curses any second and didn't follow them into the safety of the tent until he was convinced they wouldn't be attacked. Hagrid, who had been waiting at the entrance of the tent was the only person, who was looking at him with pride and respect, but Harry only heard the frantic and furious screeching of his friend, who must think he had been abducted by the other, taller humans.

Professor McGonagall, Moody and Hagrid made their way to a second tent nearby, where a pale Madam Pomfrey was standing, before her professional side took over and she ushered all of them inside.

Moody pushed Harry roughly into a bed, where Madam Pomfrey immeadiately began checking his health.

At the tent's entrance he could see a mass of people, including Rita Skeeter, who was screeching about it being her right and duty to inform the world about the 'Dragon Child'. Yet she - like everybody else - was held back by a group of people, which consisted of his self-proclaimed saviours and Dumbledore.

The only person in the tent now besides the fussing Pomfrey was Cedric, who was looking around the screen that was separating them.

His patience was starting to grow thin, as Madam Pomfrey continued to nurse him, though he was not injured at all and Cedric's staring and the uproar were not helping. Finally he lost his temper as she seemed ready to force him to take off his clothes for further examination. He hissed at her angrily: "I'm fine! What is the great deal anyway?"

"Then it isn't true?" Cedric and Madam Pomfrey asked in unison.

"What?" he asked in annoyance, trying not to scream, but still be heard over the noise of the people outside.

They gave each other a confused look, until Cedric finally answered: "You didn't..? I mean everybody is in a frenzy about you taming a dragon."

Harry turned emerald green towards Cedric's grey ones, stating with annoyance now plainly audible in his voice: "Sorry. No. I didn't!" Both seemed highly confused, as they seemed to have been in this tent, during the incident, but had still had an at least general idea what happened. Taking pity on them, he elaborated: "I talked to her, not _tamed _her:she is as wild as she has ever been." Harry knew it was _not_ normal to talk to a _dragon_. Hell! It's strange to speak to animals in general, but although he didn't know why, it just felt natural to him. He knew it didn't used to be, but something was different now. Something had changed out there.

Cedric and Madam Pomfrey were looking at him with disbelief, but a moment later Cedric's were clouded in thought as he leaned back, turning him into a silhouette against the sheet, and Madam Pomfrey said: "You are fine. I'm going to tell the Headmaster, as he wants to talk to you..."_"About what? I only got successfully out of the first part of a dangerous tournament, I didn't want to take part in in the first place, alive! It's not like that is against the rules!"_

Harry noted absent-mindedly that the commotion outside was quieting down. On further inspection he saw that the only people left, arguing to be let in were Hermione and Ron, which made Harry wonder with what Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Moody had threatened his '_visitors' _to get rid of such a mass of people. A few moments later he saw Madam Pomfrey talk to Cedric quietly, before both of them left.

When all noise ceased, he only had time to see two teens with tear-stained faces racing up to him, followed by his protectors and headmaster. The two lunged at him, hugging him close and muttering how they were going to kill him for scaring them like this.

He looked over their heads at his professors. McGonagall usual tight bun at the back of her head was in disarray and her hands were bleeding. He could only assume that she had formed her hands into fists to maintain her composure, but at some point her fingernails must have pierced the skin. Dumbledore had an unreadable expression, while Hagrid was still looking at him with that proud and happy gaze. What scared him was Mad-eye Moody, the retired auror and currently his DADA Professor, though. He was just looking at him with a dark, calculating gaze, that sent shivers down his spine. _"Can I trust him? He may be Professor Dumbledore's friend, but even the Headmaster is human."_

"Harry, what were you thinking?" asked Ron, with a red face as he regained his composure and wiped the tears off with his shirt. His relief that Harry was alive, seemed to be turning into anger that he had put himself in this situation in the first place. He looked at the others and saw the same question reflected on their faces._"Absolutely nothing. But I don't think you want to hear that..." _ "I -I thought that thing would kill you," he stuttered, his temper already leaving him with the adrenaline.

A burning anger, that Harry couldn't quite explain, was forming inside of him and he yelled at the boy, "She is not a _thing_, Ron!" he looked down a moment later, ashamed for his outburst, muttering, "Sorry..," though he didn't really mean it.

Everybody stared at him for a moment, before Dumbledore regained his composure and said, "Would you mind, telling me, how you came up with this _unusual_ tactic of getting past the dragon?"

He couldn't really find it in himself to lie, so he simply answered truthfully, fearing what the other's reaction might be, "I didn't, Professor... I planned to use the Accio-charm to call my firebolt and get the egg that way, but suddenly this idea, as well as any other thought, faded away and what I did just... felt right," he ended helplessly.

The old wizard was shocked for a moment and gave him a long searching look as if he wanted to verify something, before he gave a small, mysterious smile and said, "Well, it worked out quite fine, so why don't you join your fellow housemates. The scores will be announced at dinner." He gave a small laugh. "We originally planned to announce them straight away, but after this, I fear nobody remembered that the champions were supposed to be judged."

With that Professor Dumbledore left, supporting a faint-looking Professor McGonagall. Moody gave him one last frightening look, before following after them.

Hagrid was the only one left with them, beaming happily. "Tha' was grea', Harry! Jus' breathtakin' how ye handled her. Ye are a natural a' tha' sor' of thin'; I always knew tha'! Nex' lesson, I'm gonna have te ge'ye somethin' more on your level." _"Oh, shit! What were those blast-ended skrewts than? Easy to handle!"_ Before Harry could protest, Hagrid had hurriedly walked of, yelling a goodbye, undoubtedly to search for something on 'Harry's level'. _"Maybe a cuddly little Nundu? Now that would be _great_!"_

"You know you are screwed now?" Ron asked grinning, but it quickly disappeared from his face as he remembered something. Looking extremely uncomfortable, he said: "I'm really sorr-," but Harry just waved his apology off.

"It's OK," Harry grinned, sticking out his hand for the other to take, he continued, "if you forgive me for talking to the dragon and coming out with no harm whatsoever, when I could have gotten so many nice third degree burns by fighting her like Cedric, Fleur and Krum."

Ron laughed taking the offered hand, before going on and on how wicked, what he had done, had been.

Hermione smiled, but she was now definitely looking at Harry, as though he was some kind of specimen.

While the three walked back to the castle, Harry was brooding. Worrying just what he would have to read in the Daily Prophet the next morning with a seriously pissed off at not being allowed to have an interview with the 'Dragon Child' Rita.


	2. Half Truths

Disclaimer: Harry belongs to JK. Rowling and Final Fantasy to Square Enix and I'm neither a great authoress and mother nor a multi-million company! Just a seventeen years old girl from Germany, that loves to write about them.

Direct speech will be like this: "Blah!", stressed words in direct speech like this:_ emphasised,_

Harry's thoughts like this: _"Blah!" _and stressed words in thoughts like this:emphasised.

**Harry Potter and the return of the summoners**

**Chapter two – Rymv-Dnidrc**

Harry trembled, while he sat at breakfast, blushing a bright crimson. He had spent the rest of the day after the first task with Ron and Hermione in the library, half-heartedly searching for some answers, while actually only using Madam Pince's hate of conversation in the library to avoid the questions of the other students by sitting at the table nearest to her.

But after they skipped lunch and dinner, eating snacks in the kitchen instead and roaming the school like convicted; even going as far as sleeping in one of the secret rooms that they were sure only they and most likely the Weasley twins knew about, Hermione insisted that he'd have to face the school sooner or later.

He shifted, trying to relieve himself of some of the tension of being stared at by the entire hall. His own eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, while he tried to force some of his breakfast down his throat, because he knew once the owl post arrived, he would most likely lose the little appetite he had.

He was in the process of chewing on a small piece of toast, when a loud flattering and flapping drew his reluctant attention to the ceiling and he almost choked on the piece of toast. There were always many post owls, bringing sweets and letters to the students of Hogwarts, but there were about five times as many owls as usual...and most were circling above him.

Gulping he ducked under the table as hundreds of owls dropped letters on the chair and area he had been moments before, some exploding as obviously dangerous concoctions hidden within were jostled. He watched in horrified fascination as the substances mixed, melting a part of the chair and making most letters catch fire, which caused the formerly unnoticed now burning Howlers start to screech at him in an undiscernable mass of complains, insults and screams.

He caught bits and pieces of: "Demon!", "Thrown out of Hogwarts" and "Ministry!"

When the screaming finally stopped, Harry came out from under the table, his ears ringing. Keeping his distance from the piles of ash, charred wood and remaining partly burned letters, which used to be a stool, he looked up in fear of spotting any stragglers, but to his great relief all owls were long gone.

The hall was completely silent and Harry looked up and down the Gryffindor table, realizing worriedly that some might have been bombarded by a wayward letter, but he was suddenly grabbed by his arms and insistently dragged out of the Great Hall under the eyes of all students.

He struggled to free himself, but was surprised when his two best friends just continued to pull him down the hallways, until they finally found an empty classroom and sank to the floor.

The three of them stared at each other wide-eyed and surprisingly it was Ron that first found words to form their current thoughts, "Merlin! What was that about!" He turned concernedly to Harry, checking him over with a sweeping glance, than angrily snarled, "Who would send you something like that! I mean it could have seriously hurt you!"

Hermione snapped surprisingly forceful eyes up from where they had been staring at the ground contemplatingly, "Maybe that was the whole point..."

"What do you mean! Sure Harry does have some foes, but no Deatheater..."

"Ron, these letters were _not_ sent by Deatheaters! If I'm not very mistaken we have to find the newest copy of the _Dailey Prophet_", she spat the word out as though it was a very foul curse.

Ginny, Fred and George, who had obviously followed them here, took this moment to make their entrance known by coughing politely, but the three friends still jumped in surprise at the unexpected noise. It seemed even the Weasley twins were shell-shocked at what happened, but with every second that passed more fury seeped into their eyes. It was very out of place in them.

The youngest Weasley stepped forward, holding something behind her back, as though she didn't want them to see it and murmured, "That might be the best idea. Here", she reluctantly showed them the slightly worn-looking magazine that she had been hiding,"I wanted to give this to you yesterday, Harry, but I couldn't find you anywhere. The Dailey Prophet turned Rita Skeeter's story into a Special, as they call it, so they could be the first to tell the masses about this." When Harry was about to grab it, Ginny retracted her arm slightly, looking at him with concern. "Are you sure, you want to read this Harry? It's not... I was thinking about not telling you about it during breakfast, because well... I thought maybe nobody would say anything, 'cause well... everybody, who knows you, should know that none of this is true..."

He grabbed it anyway and almost yanked it out of her hands. "Ginny", Harry said with barely controlled annoyance, "I _need _to read this, because obviously _most_ people _don't know me_!"

Hermione and Ron nodded at each other and it was her that told him for both of them: "Don't forget though Harry, Ginny is right. Those close to you won't believe any lies, Rita might have come up with." The others nodded in agreement. _"Are you so sure about that? What about her first article! _Mrs.Weasley_ believed it!"_

George obviously thinking he and Fred should say something too, offered with a hate nobody had ever heard in their voices before: "We could do something _really_ nasty to Skeeter, Harry! Something really, _really_ nasty!"

Fred, seeing this seemed to cheer him up a little, added, "Yeah and if you want us to we can prank the whole staff of the Dailey Prophet and those other newspapers, to-" He broke off clamping a hand over his mouth as he saw the last colour drain from the other boy's face at the mention of 'other newspapers'The other four gave him murderous looks.

Harry used this short diversion of their attention to eye the magazine again. On it's front-page was a picture of him petting the dragon and above this it proclaimed **Dailey Prophet Special: Harry Potter a dragon-speaker! New fundemental findings about the night You-Know-Who died!** Mildly aware that the others had come to huddle close to him - the twins and Ginny probably more to give him moral support - than to read the article, Harry opened it to the first page, which was a surprisingly accurate and detailed account of what _did_ happen. _"No comments, no evaluation, no nothing...yet."_

After a moment his eyes found the second page with the headline **The myth of people talking to beasts.** He didn't know why, but Harry felt a great fury at the dragon being called something degrading like 'beast'.

It was horrible. Seven pages of speculation about what he could be.

He thought they were all downright ridiculous and he was soon found laughing with tears running down his face, but he dimly doubted it had anything to do with humour, since they were only humorous to those, who knew all the details about his life. The article must seem true to all those who didn't know him inside out. Everything was corroborated with quotations of experts. Everything was explained in lengthy detail and seemed completely reasonable.

One speculation was that Harry Potter _did_ die, but a dragon-like demon took his body, creating a mark where he entered the dead infant's body and killing Voldemort with the magical backlash. Another was that he had never spent a day at Privet Drive and was instead raised by dragons. _"She even has proof for that!"_ His laughing took on an almost insane tone, when he read the quotes taken from 'Mr. Vernon Dursley (37), Harry's kind and handsome uncle,' who made very clear that he had never heard of a boy called Harry Potter much less raised him, 'which his beautiful wife Petunia Dursley (38) and intelligent blond-haired son Dudley Dursley (15) confirmed'. And somewhere in China there have been rumours about a young boy riding a Chinese Fireball for years, starting almost thirteen years ago. 'They even found clothes of a child and a new set of Hogwarts robes in one of the nests.' Harry winced, realising where these clothes must really come from. _"Poor kids..."_

The last part was a conclusion of two pages that could be reduced to the sentence: Whyever he can talk to it, he must be dangerous if a dangerous animal likes him.

When he was finally finished, he was almost certain that _every _person, who had read this article believed that he was insane at best.

He noticed that Hermione was hugging him close with her head buried in his shoulder, trembling slightly, which he took as a sure sign that she was crying. The others didn't abandon their posts around him, showing that they were there for him.

"Hey," came a slightly croaking sound from Hermione and the others stared at her questioningly as she took a small step back and dried her eyes. "We have to go to our respective classes. We have missed our first period as it is." Harry couldn't help but laugh in amusement this time, not the hollow sound it was before. _"Some things never change."_

_  
_"Yep, a good idea", George affirmed earning stares from those around him, "Well it's true. We can't stand here all day now, can we? I have to uh...", his expression turned devious, "_prepare some things _during our next period; History of Magic."

Ron suddenly groaned, as realisation hit him. He exclaimed wide-eyed: "Harry! Hermione! We were supposed to have Potions! _Double _Potions! How are we going to excuse skipping class to Snape!"

His friends paled, earning snickers from the scared red-head's siblings.


	3. The Secret of the golden Egg

Disclaimer: You think I own Harry Potter _and _Final Fantasy! Boah! I didn't know that! OoO Why didn't anyone ever bother to tell me! I always thought they were owned by this nice woman that gives those interview thingies and this company thingy that used to be called Square Soft, but decided to fusion with this other big company thingy like in DBZ and then went poof! and called itself Gotenks uh... I mean Square-Enix. Strange... Even more so when you consider that the first Final Fantasy was created in 1987, which is the year I was born in... I must really have been ahead of the other kids my age...

If you want a summon to appear in this story, please tell me in your review and I will see if it fits into the story (If he had too many, it would be stupid and some are needed for the story to work).

**Harry Potter and the Return of the Summoners**

**Chapter three – Dra Calnad uv dra kuntak Akk**

The trio flew down the corridors to make it to the dungeon in time for the second lesson of this day. For the first time any of them could remember they were glad when the air became colder and damper, indicating that they would be in the dungeons soon. Two Slytherins that were obviously enjoying a free period, were watching them pass, with amused smirks. _"Well, they probably don't believe I'm enough of a Slytherin to be an evil creature that killed Harry Potter...How comforting that some people believe in me." _Harry snorted in amusement.

Harry could already see the classroom door, but he held his breath when Ron threw open the classroom door without even thinking of knocking first. Hermione and Harry blanched, but even after this disturbance of his lesson Snape just hissed: "So finally_ Gryffindor's Golden trio _has decided to honour us with their presence. _Now go to your seats and work quietly like everybody else!_"he bellowed the last part loudly and the trioscurried to the backmost table to have an at least half-complete potion brewed by the end of the lesson.

But Harry found he was too confused by his teacher's reaction to concentrate. Snape didn't even make them serve _one_ detention!

The young wizard looked around the room to determine whether the others had noticed this strange new attitude, too, but although many Slytherins were now staring at Snape as though he had gone ìnsane, most students seemed to have decided to ignore this unusual behaviour in favour of shooting the_ 'demon'_ hateful or fearful looks, as though they were afraid he would do something wicked the next second. Of course most were polite enough not to look when they thought he would without a doubt notice, but he did of course catch them every time, since he was sitting in the last row and had therefore a good view of everyone else.

He glanced up to make the staring students turn their attention back to their own work again, but his gaze fixed on his teacher instead. _"Had Dumbledore ordered him to leave me alone...? ...Or maybe he pities me?" _He crunched up his face at the last thought, while cutting a tentacle into one-inch-long stripes. _"_No_! Snape has made it very clear that he can't pity anybody - least of all me - a long time ago..." _He looked up at the Potions Master again, who was practically dyeing a whole piece of parchmment red and Harry was quite sure this essay belonged to a Gryffindor. Suddenly the greasy haired man looked up without moving his head from its bent position, to meet Harry's eyes through neglected locks. Harry got his answer in this moment, as the older wizard sent him a look that practically spit loathing and dared him to skip one more of his classes. Harry turned his attention to his tentacle pieces that were now ready to be added. _"Thanks Dumbledore."_

Harry was glad when he realised that Snape and maybe Trelawney - who claimed he would soon find his end, when facing off with a winged being of light - were the only teachers who treated him worse. On the contrary they were all much nicer than usual and although this would have annoyed him under normal cirumstances, as he hated pity, with almost all the students - even the Gryffindors - now wearing badges that either stated "Potter stinks" or "I'm for Cedric" or the most popular "No beasts at Hogwarts!", he appreciated their kind smiles or the glares and frowns they gave those wearing badges, esspecially those of the last kind. The young wizard was esspecially grateful to Professor Flitwick, who was working very hard on a charm that protected the students from unwanted mail (which made the sending of Howlers impossible to every students' great joy). It was not working perfectly yet and the boy still didn't open any mail that he didn't know perfectly well where it came from and he was still always careful not to jostle any of his letters, but it improved every day.

After a particularly bad Care for Magical Creatures, in which the trio ended up being one of two three-people-teams, because Lavender didn't want to partner with Hermione for the sole reason that she was Harry's friend, Hagrid had decided to walk them back to the castle. He asked the short brunette hundreds of questions about how it felt like to touch a grown-up dragon, whether he too thought dragons had the most beautiful eyes and of course the slightly embarassed question whether he knew if Hagrid could learn to do this, too, which was met with three surpressed grins and a slightly sympathatic shake of the head from the younger wizard, who was feeling decidedly less bad about whatever he had done.

That was when a tennisball-sized cannon ball began zooming around Harry's head, startling him, but an enfuriated Ron caught it roughly in midair, before Hagrid, who was staring dreamily at nothing in particular, caught sight of it. The red-head extracted the letter from his owl's leg, handing the parchment to Harry, who immeadiately stuffed it into his pocket.

He had sent Sirius a short letter explaining what happened - although his godfather had found out about it much earlier - and asking for advice three days ago. Having waited for a reply ever since the trio hastily bid their friend goodbye, running up the stairs of the school to find a secluded place to read his godfather's letter.

_Dear Harry, _

_To start of, I'm very proud of you. I bet whoever threw your name into the goblet won't be too happy about you succeeding this easily! I wanted to suggest using the Conjuctivitis curse, because the eyes of a dragon are the weakest part of their body, but I have to admit your method worked way better._

_It took me three pieces of parchment to stop writing: How could you do something this stupid! Please give me some credit. _

_Now don't get all full of yourself, you still have two tasks to master, so whoever it is that wanted you this badly in the tournament will still have loads of occasions to harm you. Be on your guard esspecially with the person we talked about around and..._

_Well, I'd like to ask you to promise to never do something this dangerous again, but I don't think you would be able to keep that promise. Just come back in one piece whenever you decide to pet a dangerous beast that is class five, will you?_

_Sirius_

_PS.: Things like this are often caused by suddenly emerged, magical talents, that are triggered by extreme emotions or key-experiences, so now that your's is triggered, you might experience other strange things. Tell Dumbledore and of course me, when something out of the norm happens around you. Be careful with this! There is no knowing what might happen next!_

_PPS.: Don't let your classmates get you down. They are acting stupid for now, but as soon as the chaos Skeeter ensued dies down, they will come back to their senses, I promise._

Harry wasn't bothered by the hate most people bestowed on him any more though. He was closer to his friends than he had ever been before and he had become closer friends with Ginny, Fred and George, who hadn't lied when they said they would do something _really _nastyto Skeeter and the Dailey Prophet. It should have sickened him, he knew, as the twins had gone quite a bit too far, but there was just too much satisfaction to feel even slightest bit of guil for not feeling any sympathy for the victims of this on-crime-bordering prank.

Two weeks after the first task the Weasley-twins had suddenly disappeared for two days and if Harry didn't know any better he'd have said it was with full permision of the teachers, who didn't do anything about their disappearance at all. When they came back Dean asked them where they had been, but they only assured him icily that by tommorow he would know. And know he did.

The next morning the Dailey Prophet claimed that Malfoy, Goyle and Crabbe were lovers, who to top it off were the secret sons of You-Know-Who, too, Lavender Brown was in fact the reborn Salazar Slytherin and some other students and various people, whose names had probably been found on the partly charred letters, had done and were various other horrible things. The worst off was Rita Skeeter, "(35) a wretched bitch, whose brain was found a few weeks ago in Filch's office", who, as one of the various texts about her claimed, was a snail, that had taken over the dead body of You-Know-Who, disguised herself as a female with a really ugly Helloween costume and wanted to take over the world by making everybody laugh so much that they were rolling on the floor. The only problem with her master-plan was that some people were so stupid they didn't understand that she was only writing joke stories though.

On the bottom of the last page it said: _The Dailey Prophet Special: Revenge. Is it bitter-sweet or not! Well, no matter what. We bet you love it no matter what, right dear old fellow?_

One day later the Dailey Prophet sent official apologies to those, who had been mentioned in the _articles_ the day before and gave an explanation to its readers. They claimed that someone had cursed everybody, working for the Dailey Prophet with the Imperius and sent out copies under its name, but the truth was widely known by then. Someone had spiked the coffee and the staff had a lot of _fun_, while someone changed the newest copy into an - according to Hermione - just as impartial, truthful, yet far more entertaining one. The Aurors didn't put any effort into finding the criminals, because the Dailey Prophet had a habit of critisising them.

"This might also be the reason", a smirking Fred added as he listened to the trio's conversation about the Dailey Prophet's misfortune, "why they haven't found the person, who has turned Rita Skeeter into a half-snail and half-human being, yet."

His twin sent him an equally evil and amused smirk, when he responded in a fake-sympathetic voice, "Or why St. Mungo's healers can't find a cure, so it will probably have to wear off on its own."

The trio laughed maliciously, imagining a Half-Snail Rita Skeeter.

After reading the newspaper and a lot of thinking, some students apologised. Fewer than Harry had expected really, but he didn't care that much. What really bothered him was, that with each passing days he noticed that an ever-growing restlessness was taking a hold of him.

It was a strange feeling. As though he was missing something maybe a part of himself and he really wanted to go find it, but for the moment he forced himself to wait and hope it would disappear after a while.

Trying to advert his attention to a different problem, he remembered that he still had two tasks to solve. He came to the conclusion that it was high time to deal with the reminder of that strange occurence.

He decided to ask Hermione and Ron, who had taken to following him everywhere since the time they saw how his chair was burned to ashes by hateful letters, to allow him a little time alone, because he wanted to try to figure out how the egg worked alone first. Ron wanted to object, but a Hermione's look, who was obviously pleased with this, quickly shut him up.

Sitting alone in an empty room near the common room, Harry stared at the egg in his lap.

The first challenge he encountered was, what he should do with it. _"Crack it? It is probably too hard... Should I use magic?" _He glared at it, willing it to tell him what he should do with it.

He blushed furiously, when he caught sight of a small slit, that indicated that the egg consisted off two parts and could be easily taken apart the muggle-way. He was suddenly very glad that he had decided to do this on his own.

Putting his hands over the slit, palms on the one half, and his fingers on other, he slowly pushed the two parts of the egg apart. For a moment nothing happened and the egg was empty, but suddenly the room was filled with ear-splitting screaches and howls, causing Harry to drop the source of them with a thump and letting it roll a few feet away.

It was almost too much to bear. Even though he had pressed his ears tightly shut instinctively as soon as the screeching started, he could still hear the higher howls quite clearly. Harry's grimace turned into a confused frown. _"Are those really howls!" _He concentrated on one of the louder notes that passed through his hands and gasped, when he realised that it meant "miss"!

He grudgingly stopped trying to shut out the shrieks by pressing his hands over his ears, distorting them in the process and forced himself to listen closely.

He couldn't claim to understand what the voices meant perfectly, but he hoped he got the gist of it. They were going to try taking something away from him that he would dearly miss and if he was unable to get it back in one hour they would keep it forever. They - whatever they were since they didn't tell - lived underwater.

The boy was getting desperate when he _translated _that last bit. He couldn't swim too well, as the Dursleys had never bothered to teach him properly. _"Well"_, he thought dryly, _"it isn't like the diving part will be all too hard. It is more the resurfacing."_

**_Now please don't forget to press the review button to tell the authoress, whether you think this chapter sucks or not. Otherwhise I probably won't update any time soon!_**


	4. Into the Storm

**AN.: **I haven't updated in… a while? OK, OK more like an eternity, but thanks to all those who reviewed - especially Blue Flame Crystal who complained recently - the story is back. My style has changed drastically though, so please try to get used to it.

**Disclaimer:** Things from Harry belongs to JK. Rowling and the stuff from Final Fantasy to Square Enix and I'm neither!

**You can find the translations at the end of the chapter, but I suggest using an Al Bhed translator.**

**Harry Potter and the Return of the Summoners**

**Chapter 4 – Ehdu dra Cduns**

After the frightening discovery that the second task would be even harder for Harry to accomplish than all other champions, he spent most of his time in the library. Of course he wasn't alone, he had asked Ron and Hermione for help and he therefore at least didn't have to work be himself.

Naturally since he wasn't as fond of studying as Hermione, after yet another day of spending his free afternoon reading fruitlessly, the tousle-haired boy was growing wary of spending his free periods searching. You couldn't really blame him for beginning to eye the Restricted Section longingly. _"What if the answer is hidden in there?"_ Leaving his dozing male friend and completely immersed female one at their table, the young wizard stood up.

Checking whether Madam Pince was watching, the boy risked venturing a little closer to the foreboding, yet tempting corridor, which housed the darkest books the library had to offer. He eyed the librarian warily, wondering whether her romance novel was just a clever scheme to tempt unsuspecting students into stupid escapades for which she could throw them out. Deciding it was worth it, he crept into the shadowed section, careful to remain in nooks where the woman wouldn't be able to see him, in case she decided to look up from her book.

His fingers traced the spines of the different books in front of him suddenly wondering why he had even bothered to come here. He knew quite well how uncooperative these books were if you weren't allowed to open them. Imagining that there was the chance he was standing in front the solution to the task, yet having it as far out of his reach as it could be, frustrated him to no end.

The black-haired student hurried out of the nook and deeper into the shadows, when he began to have the feeling that someone was watching him. Stiffening he steeled himself for the scolding he would without a doubt receive - none came.

The feeling faded as fast as it had come and risking a glance over his shoulder he discovered that nobody was there.

His hand itched to slide into the pocket of his robes where his wand was hidden, since there was a high chance it had been someone he didn't want to give an easy shot at his unprotected back. He now wished that he hadn't left Hermione and Ron behind.

In this moment he noticed a book he could have sworn hadn't been there before, because he was sure he would have noticed it right away. It was very thin, old-looking and it almost reeked of magic, like some of the library's oldest scrolls, which only survived through the ages because it was cared for by wizards.

Acting before his brain could catch up with his hands, he grabbed the book and went back to his table, this time not even bothering to inconspicuously sneak past the distracted librarian. The small book disappeared in his book bag in less than a moment, put in with sure movements as though it were his own. He ignored Hermione, who had noticed everything and was looking at the other youth quite scandalised. Harry knew that her curiosity and loyalty was greater than her sense of justice.

The young wizard was having a hard time understanding why she was looking at him with such shock. It took all the way to the Gryffindor Common Room for it to occur to him that he had _stolen_ a book from the Restricted Section. Yet he could not bring himself to turn around and give it back – he did not even _want_ to. He was reluctant to part with it and promised his slightly guilty conciousness that he would return it soon... or later.

So after fidgeting nervously for ten minutes, while his friends talked about their daily findings, he excused himself, claiming to be tired. It was a bit too only to retire really, but his friends probably thought he needed some time to himself and those who still believed Rita's lies ignored him anyway. Only one acted completely different. As he went upstairs to his dorm, he could still feel his bushy-haired friend's attentive eyes follow his every move.

Closing the curtains around his bed he lit his wand and opened the book on his pillow. It didn't surprise him too much, that the book didn't scream, as it was likely that whoever put the book there wanted him to find it.

What shocked him was in what condition the book was in.

He frowned when he noticed how very few pages there were. It looked like more than four fifths of the book were missing. To his surprise and unexpected outrage, the pages hadn't just fallen out after decades of fingers leafing through them with little care. They had been ripped out cleanly at their root as though the book's destroyer had been very careful to not damage any of the precious information.

Shaking his head somewhat mournfully, he returned to the first yellowed, brittle page. It was filled with a rather messy, hand-written script that _should have_ made absolutely no sense, but as he scanned the page the same vague understanding he had when he heard the golden egg's song filled him. The only difference was that there were far more words that he wasn't able to translate in this text, as they lacked an English equivalent.

_I am the last of the Cissuhanc, remaining beyond the Vynabmyha. I have written this down so you, the Acban will not forget us or each other, after we pass on._

_I know you will be the only ones to miss us, so preserve this book.. Please do not let this fall into the hands of anybody but an Acban! The other races wouldn't hesitate to destroy the last evidence of our existence._

He sat back a little annoyed, because the book had just become an even bigger mystery. _"What language is this? ...And why can I understand it?"_

He began to reread the first page thoroughly and slowly once more taking note of the most recuring word, that he didn't understand. It seemed to be the name of the author's race: 'Cissuhanc'. He spoke the word out loud letting the syllables roll off his tongue and he repressed a slight shudder at how natural it felt, despite it being so different from any language he had ever heard before.

Slowly but surely he deciphered what the author wrote on the next page and he could feel his excitement growing with every word he read, even though he had no idea why.

_Shiva _

_The Mistress of Ice and one of the oldest Cissuh_

Harry raised an eyebrow. He remembered having heard of the name 'Shiva' before. A god if his memory served him correctly.

_Although she is quite powerful, she always granted her assistance to young and inexperienced Cissuhanc. She usually preferred level-headed young men, who were beautiful to behold._

_We have at last found a suitable location for her temple not too far from her favoured sister's resting place._

Next to this was an almost blank page that at first seemed almost empty apart from some outlines and purple tones, but once he squinted, he could make out some faint blue on the paper. Almost pressing his nose to the book, he tried to see the picture that had been drawn with colours even magic had been unable to hold forever. A slight blush spread over his cheeks when he finally saw the scarcely- clad female that seemed to be dancing in a blizzard.

Turning the page over, his attention was at first captured by the fiery red picture on the right page. A horned slightly hunched humanoid bull-like demon was staring at him from the drawing. Fire and smoke was everywhere. The creature breathed it, produced it from its skin and in certain places there was a smooth transition from the beast to flames. The young wizard was very glad that he didn't have to face the creature in blood. That it only existed as ink on paper, unable to harm anyone.

It was only then that he noticed that the pictures didn't move. For a moment he contemplated this. It was rare for a book in the library of Hogwarts. According to Hermione such books were normally older than the technique enabling pictures to come to life. How old was this little book, that was as thin as a notepad? Who and why would someone preserve obviously incomplete information for so long?

_Ifrit_

_The Incarnation of Flames and Smoke and the hated and hating Twin of Water and Ice_

_Since his flames' hunger could only be truly quenched in times of war, he liked to take easily-angered, influential, strong Cissuhanc._

Harry didn't read farther as in that moment an ugly creature crawled over the paper. It looked a little like a gross cross between a snail and a bug with no legs and a smeary body with tiny round insect-wings. A Bookbug, a librarian's nightmare.

A little disgusted he flicked it away and started to leaf through the book, concerned about the its health. Even paper that was in the safe-keeping of magic-users had natural enemies - magical creatures. If Pince knew there was one in Hogwarts, she'd probably call the ministry in panic. Although the thought of a bunch of Aurors searching high and low for a worm hardly as long as his finger nail, made Harry laugh, he reconsidered his earlier instinctive move.

Closing the book carefully, he got off the bed, found the scared Bookbug after a short search and took it to the window. The student got the feeling that the creature was looking at him accusingly through its oozing eyes, but it was probably his overactive imagination. He opened the window and threw the creature into the cold night.

It was a very cold night, decidedly colder than the last few had been. Shivering Harry tried to warm his arms by rubbing them. His jittering breath produced a thick, white cloud in front of his face.

Not giving the sudden drop of temperature any further heed, he tried to close the window, but in that moment a strong gust of icy wind blew into the room, wrenching the two parts of the window from his grasp. With a clatter they hit the wall breaking on impact.

Protecting his face, the teen noticed that in that moment it had begun to snow rapidly and it was picking up, getting stronger by the second. He leant outside curiously, looking up into the clouds that had suddenly swallowed all light and decided to burst forth the white fluff.

Flinching he reeled back. A hand flew to his cheek and he felt a small trickle of warm fluid flow between his fingers. Something had bitten into his skin, but what? Feeling the wound with his hand, he felt something sharp. Whatever had cut was still in there and with with careful fingers he took out. Bringing it close to his face, he first thought it was a piece of broken glass, but on closer inspection he noticed it was melting. It was a small shard of ice.

Forgetting about the window he ran to the door of the room. He clumsily fumbled with the door knob for a moment, before a spark of inspiration ignited and he ran back to his bed, pulling his trunk out from under it.

Leafing through his things, he got his cloak and his broom.

His heart was beating wildly and he was sweating a little. He had an aim so desperate that he could hardly think of anything but following it. It had come back with an irresistible force - that feeling that told him to do _something_, to go _somewhere_. Before it had been a slightly nagging feeling at most, but now it was like the call of a siren, begging him - no _ordering_ - him to follow.

Throwing his father's cloak over his shoulders, he climbed on his broom. A part of him, was screaming at him about the foolishness of his actions, but it was drowned by the howling wind.

He had to go out into the storm. Someone was waiting for him.

Kicking off he flew through the window tucking the Invisibility Cloak tightly around himself, not only because he didn't want anyone to come after him, but also because the cloak had on various occasions proven to be very sturdy and it would hopefully protect him from the icy missiles the heavens were shooting down at him.

The storm around him had picked up and the cold was so biting that he had lost all sensation in his legs apart from the pricking of a thousand needles. He no longer had any sense of direction, as he was pushed around by the furious winds and everything was a moving, dancing white. Yet somehow he still knew where he had to go.

He felt no fear whatsoever, no hopelessness. All that mattered was finding what he sought. The storm was an obstacle, nothing more.

Leaning forward he picked up speed flying faster and no longer allowing the storm to play with him like a kite. He had no time to fool around with servants.

Someone was waiting. Someone important was waiting for him. Someone he had been waiting for his whole life as well.

The blizzard around him grew to even greater fury, but Harry didn't notice. He was going too fast and with too much determinition. He was coming closer. Cocking his head he thought he saw something in the see of churning white. A glittering gem on what he thought was the ground.

Flying lower, his breath caught in his throat. It was a palace - in the middle of the _Forbidden__Forest_, which was filled with all kinds of monsters most people only saw in their nightmares. The building itself was a breath-taking sight, completely out of place in this evil forest of old, gnarled trees. Like the castles in fairytales, it seemed to be made of glass.

He made his way towards it. Flying around the highest towers, he admired the intricate patterns on them. He was about to touch one of them, when it occurred to him that he had once more been mistaken. Open-mouthed he realised that the palace was just as little made of glass as the shard that had cut his cheek. It was made of ice and he got the feeling this structure had something to do with the suddenly hard winter.

Following a tower down to its roots, he landed. His destination was so near, only a little further and he would meet this mysterious someone. He made his way around the ice-wall, finding the impressive entrance. Intricate, swirling patterns wound their way over the portal's surface, forming something that resembled the blizzard currently covering him in snow and almost freezing him.

Cautiously he walked up to the gates and was about to try moving the gigantic pieces of ice with his bare hands, when they moved on their own accord.

He found himself in a sort of entrance hall. It was lit by strange blue lights that gave off no heat whatsoever and turned the glassy walls into a mysterious piece of art. Shivering he blew his hot breath on his hands and rubbed them, before hiding them in his clothes. It was decidedly warmer than outside though and he could take off his cloak.

Suddenly his ears pricked. Previously deaf from the howling wind they were now able to pick up a very low sound. It reignited his will to search and he followed it.

Crossing the hall he climbed a flight of stairs, somehow knowing exactly where he to go, although the sounds were almost inaudible. A rather big double-door opened before him, as he reached the top.

The previously muffled sound engulfed him and turned out to be music that reverberated around a room easily the size of the great hall. A beautiful voice filled the room with an enchanting prayer mixed into a song. It was in the book's mysterious language and he knew she was begging for someone to come and find her – for him.

He gasped, as his eyes finally found the singer. She was a tall woman with long hair who was holding her arms high above her head, like he had seen magicians do in the old days, when they called upon the greatest powers. That wasn't what really shocked him though. Having seen her before, made not recognizing the icy beauty impossible, even from behind. The picture had done her blue almost see through body and hair no justice and unlike in the book she wore a long flowing white dress with a border reminiscent of snow crystals. The hair was mainly held up by a clasp high on her head, only a few swirling locks tumbling down her back.

It seemed she was unaware of his presence, but he made no move to make himself known, approaching silently.

As though in a trance, he came ever closer to her as her singing rose to a crescendo. He had waited so long for this, but she had waited even longer – far too long - for someone to come and find her. He fell to his knees a small tear slipping down his cheek, since he somehow knew she wouldn't cry for herself and her loneliness.

Her song ending she turned around and startled she took a step back upon seeing him on the floor in front of her. Narrowing her eyes in anger her hands produced a ball of ice, but the young wizard wasn't afraid.

He kept looking into her stormy eyes, keeping her gaze steadily locked with his and did the difficult arm gesture he had only done once before, bowing low. Numb the goddess copied his moves and did the same, her eyes confused, but hopeful.

Coming to his feet, he smiled. Her face remained indifferent, but her eyes betrayed that she was at the very least interested. She looked him up and down, obviously trying to judge his worth. Normally Harry would have been uncomfortable with such scrutiny, but he was not quite himself at the moment.

When she palmed his cheek, her cold hands almost hurt, but he didn't mind. Finally nodding she gave him a surprisingly warm smile.

Suddenly there was a bright flash and he could hear the castle crumble around him. Instinctively trying to protect his head from falling debrit, he expected to be skewered by falling shards in the next moment, but that never happened.

Opening his eyes the palace was gone. Nothing had been left to be evidence of it ever having existed in the first place. Looking around in confusion, he also noticed that the blizzard had turned into a light shower of soft, small flakes of snow. The formerly hostile weather had turned everything into a winter dream, as a thick layer of pure, untainted snow covered everything. The cold bit him no longer it was a pleasant night.

The hole in his heart seemed to have shrunk a little bit, but he wanted no needed to find more. The need to go farther, to search more for them came over him, but it wasn't quite strong enough to make him forget everything again. While he had been gone, curfew had started and if he wasn't back soon, he'd have to answer the questions of his curious friends.

And he lacked answers. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea what was going on himself.

As though in answer a comforting cold encompassed his whole body and he felt someone wrap their arms around him. He whirled around, disentangling himself and saw the mysterious woman.

"_What was her name again?"_ the young wizard thought.

"So hysa ec Shiva, so meddma Cissuhan," the woman replied to his inner wondering a little irritatedly.

Harry jumped. It was this strange language again. Was it only coincidence that she answered that particular question or had she read his mind? Did she just call him, '_her_ _Cissuhan'_?

"Oui tu hud vayn sa, tu oui? Oui cruimt ghuf paddan dryh dryd," the goddess admonished him, tucking a strand of dark blue hair behind her long pointed ear.

The wizard shook his head slowly. Even though he was bewildered, he couldn't claim to be frightened by the tall woman and didn't back away from her, even though she was standing closer to him than what should be a comfortable distance.

Gulping the young wizard worked up the courage to finally talk to the entity before him and find out what is going on, but before he could open his mouth, she spoke up again, "E ryja yllabdat oui. Oui syo vaam ruhunat, yc E tu."

Unbidden foreign words flew from Harry's mouth. Words he had never used before, but which just sprang forth from a place deep inside his heart, "Syo fa canja yht pa canjat po aylr udran."

The goddess gave him a rare, but chilling smile and Harry wondered what he had just agreed to.

* * *

**Translations:**

So hysa ec Shiva, so meddma Cissuhan. – My name is Shiva, my little Cissuhan.

Oui tu hud vayn sa, tu oui? Oui cruimt ghuf paddan dryh dryd. - You do not fear me, do you? You should know better than that

E ryja yllabdat oui. Oui syo vaam ruhunat, yc E tu. - I have accepted you. You may feel honored, as I do.

Syo fa canja yht pa canjat po aylr udran. - May we serve and be served by each other.

**AN.: Review please.**


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